Hellfate
by Laitaine-Arnostale
Summary: The Stryker threat never ends. An unexpected visitor arrives with a surprising mission for Sabere and the rest of the X Men, and the consequences of their decisions will change the world. Follows A Twist Of Fate. Rated T for language, some sexuality.
1. Chapter 1: Dior

Author's Note: I lied to you all. This is not the sequel you're looking for. About two weeks before I headed back to school, I realized I hate Emma Frost so much I'd love to write about her, and so this came out as a preqel-to-the-sequel…if that makes any sense. It was supposed to be more of a one-shot, but it evolved and grew (as stories are wont to do), and instead, I have seven chapters of "events leading up to the sequel." I hope you enjoy, and I pray you'll all continue to be patient with me while the real sequel is prepared. It's currently 28 chapters and almost 48,000 words, and now that I'm back at school I can't really say when it'll get finished, because I am _hella_ busy. Please stick with me, because it'll be worth it. If you're like me, you've looked back on the first story and laugh when you read it. Since it's been a couple years…well, judge for yourself. Without further ado or excuses, I present "Hellfate."

Hellfate

_Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters – the near future. William Stryker kidnaps Xavier and uses him to nearly destroy the world. In the process, a dear friend is destroyed instead._

_Three years later. Geoffrey Stryker, vengeful brother, uses experimental research to design a drug to cripple the mutants of the academy. Fortunately the "cure" doesn't last, and the evidence is destroyed – or so the X-Men were told._

_Two and a half years later, the story continues…_

Chapter One: Dior

"I _told_ you we'd be late."

Sabere leaped off the back of the borrowed motorcycle and dropped her helmet on the seat. Logan slid off his seat and leisurely lit a cigar. With animalistic reflexes and an adamantium-plated skull, he had no need for a helmet. Sabere, on the other hand, was incensed and had wild hair to match. He smirked as she shoved him in the direction of the mansion.

"We're half an hour late! I was supposed to lead a team today! The session's probably over…"

"Then what's the fuss?" Logan asked. He blew a lazy stream of smoke into the June afternoon air, and grinned as Sabere made a face. The way he'd figured, it was only one session of the six scheduled for the week. But she'd bickered about the entire trip – borrowing Scott's ride (which Logan did almost daily, to get away from the now mostly-empty mansion), leaving for a half-hour drive when they had to be in the Danger Room in an hour, and driving back a case of beer, of all things – but hey, it would be worth it.

He positioned the cigar in the corner of his mouth and scooped up the case. Good, dark stuff, not cheap, but worth every sip. Nightcrawler recommended it, which, he reflected, was not too surprising given his heritage.

"…and all for some goddamned _beer._ It may be summer, but this is still a school and there are still some – "

The new scent made him freeze. He threw out an arm to stop Sabere – there was nothing safe or good about this scent. Perfume, high-quality, but it carried tones of cruelty and ruthlessness. Female, unfamiliar, and unwelcome – and right outside their front door.

Sabere poked him and gave a hand sign – _what's going on?_

Logan gestured back. _Enemies._ _Keep an eye out._

He set down the case silently and they made their way quietly around to the front of the mansion.

Sabere caught a glimpse of their visitor through the ivy covering a corner of the mansion. At first she thought it must be a joke, because the woman looked like some high-class hooker visiting for the weekend. Her hair was sleek and blonde and fell in a smooth sheet against her shoulders, but the hair was the last thing to be noticed. Even from thirty feet away, Sabere could see the woman was wearing an elaborate though miniscule white corset, and ample cleavage, perfectly bronzed, was perched inside. Well, _some_ of it was inside the shirt, if it could be called a shirt by any culture. The woman wore a floor-length flared white skirt, which, when she shifted her weight, revealed a slit that bared a shapely leg that must inspire Mattel. Even Logan, in full hunter mode, could barely contain a gasp.

But Sabere tried to focus her attention on the feet – the least sexual part. Now it was clear that their guest was no hooker, because no classy call girl wore the equivalent of white combat boots while on business.

"Honestly, would the two of you stop stalking and go find your dear professor?" The woman rounded on them, arms akimbo, her perfectly structured face and dramatic silver makeup commanding almost as much attention – almost – as her décolletage.

"You realize most of the clientele at this school are underage?" Logan retorted, claws still out.

"I do not have time for catty jokes, especially when they involve the oldest puns in the book. I'm here to see Xavier, who has responded to neither the door nor my own attempts to reach him."

Sabere blamed her lack of focus on the intimidating attention of a life-size Barbie's face and cleavage. "You're a telepath?" she asked dumbly, and immediately regretted it. This was not a woman to lose ground to.

"You're a brainless young fool," the blonde snapped. "Now will one of you lackeys _please_ try to find the professor before I – "

"And lackey will be their career, should they continue to miss Danger Room sessions," Xavier interrupted, rolling out the huge front door with Scott at his side.

"Charles," the woman said coldly.

"Miss Frost," Xavier replied pleasantly. "What, besides harassing my delinquents, brings you to my doorstep?"

Logan clenched his fists, radiating resentment at his demeaning treatment in front of this confident stranger.

"I have news," Miss Frost said. "It's vital and for now, it is for your ears only."

"So be it." He turned his wheelchair and rolled back inside. Miss Frost swept after him, sparing a scathing glare at Logan and Sabere and a leer at Scott, who looked resolutely away and probably rolled his eyes, if he could.

"Old girlfriend?" Logan asked as the door shut.

"Archnemesis," Scott retorted, with little patience. _Clearly no one has a sense of humor today,_ Sabere thought grumpily. But she hid a smile, thinking of how Kurt would react to their underdressed, overconfident visitor.

"That would be Emma Frost, Class 3 telepath, White Queen of the Hellfire Club," Scott explained.

"The _what?_" Logan was not impressed by the hokey codename.

"The Hellfire Club. It's a multinational organization of extremely wealthy, extremely powerful, and extremely dangerous mutants. The whole thing is a power struggle, ranked by chess, with the kings and queens of each color fighting for control over the entire organization."

"You've got to be joking," Logan snorted, mostly to himself.

"So why is she here?" Sabere asked.

Scott spread his hands, helpess. "I have no effing clue."

_Bamf_! Kurt joined them on the front step. He was growing out his hair, and he had to swipe the thick indigo curls out of his face for them to see his grin.

"So Logan finally found away to release his tension!" Sabere had to cover her smile – Logan did not appreciate being teased when it came to his less-than-secret feelings for Jean and, to a much lesser extent, Sabere. "But perhaps it was not entirely appropriate to bring your, ah, companion to a school?"

"She's _not_ with me," Logan snarled. Kurt beamed and rounded on Scott.

"Surely Jean will have words with you on the subject…"

"Though Emma tried her best to look the part, she is _not_ a prostitute," Scott told the sky, his head flopped back in feigned exhaustion. "That's their dress code."

Logan's eyebrow twitched. "Might be my kinda club after all." Sabere rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, who is that lingerie model and why is she so anxious to meet with Xavier?" Kurt tilted his head, reconsidering, and the devilish light came back to his eyes. "I mean, if she really is _not_ a hooker…"

"Kurt, for God's sake!" Sabere groaned.

"Amen to that," Logan snorted. "For a Christian, you got a dirty mind, elf!"

"I am making jokes to put off her suspicions," Kurt said simply. "I heard you say she is a telepath, _ja?_ She is terrifying and if she is probing us, I do not want her to see the truth. I do not like her here – she reeks evil."

"You're telling' me," Logan said.

"We're just going to have to trust the Professor on this one," Scott said. "She came alone, and she's not nearly Xavier's equal as a telepath. And believe it or not, she was polite to us. Whatever she has to tell him is critical."

The others nodded and silence fell.

"You may be interested to know that Sabere's team was killed in action today while its leader was absent," Scottt continued with a raised eyebrow.

"Dammit!" She whirled to scold Logan, but he had already taken off running.

"Forgot the beer!" he called over his shoulder.

Sabere dropped her head into her hands. Scott watched Logan disappear around the corner.

"Let me guess. He took my bike – and you – to go get beer."

"Yeah."

"He takes my bike all the time – I've kinda come to terms with that one. But you? Were you collateral or something?"

"He's…broke." There was no way she was getting out of this gracefully…

"You bought Logan beer." Scott folded his arms.

"Yeah, and he owes me now!" She ignored Kurt, who was shaking with silent laughter, and worked on saving face in front of Scott. Logan had made a fair bargain, and honestly, Sabere had never been on a motorcycle before and enjoyed the opportunity

"So you bought Wolverine beer, missed a Danger Room session, and consequently got your team killed."

"Yep, I'm a teamkiller and an enabler. That covers it." Sabere lifted her chin and glared up at Scott.

"Don't mind him," Kurt broke in, grinning. "He is just upset because Jean died with the other ladies."

"Once was enough! You should understand," Scott grumbled. Sabere hadn't been at the mansion when Jean was killed on a mission, but she had been present for her return, and then almost lost Kurt in return. _She_ certainly understood. "It wasn't even a fair match, with the girls outnumbered…"

"Wait, you did guys versus girls without me?" Sabere asked. Those sessions were always the best because they usually had plenty of money – and drinks – riding on them.

In answer, Scott jerked his head at the path around the mansion. "Let's just say it's a good thing _you_ bought the beer."

"Ooh, my favorite, too." Kurt winked, and Sabere, smiling despite her sound defeat, strode past him to float a bottle out of the box.

"Hey! What are you – "

"They will explain why this is still, for the moment, _my_ beer. I am staying away from you so I don't get in any more trouble with the authorities."

"We'll find you when we have more info on Emma," Scott called.

"Thanks." She scowled at her warm beer and made her way into the student wing – Bobby should be around and if this was to be her only drink from that case, she wanted it to be a good cold one.


	2. Chapter 2: Back In White

Chapter Two: Back in White

"So _why_ did you buy Logan beer?" Bobby asked dubiously as Sabere sipped gratefully from the bottle. Bobby, having just turned twenty-one a month ago, was enjoying his own spoils from his team's victory in the Danger Room. Apparently he'd bet Rogue a six-pack of Samuel Adams – an okay beer, in Sabere's opinion, but the boy had his hometown loyalties.

"He was broke and he promised me half the case. It's Kurt's favorite beer and he figured we'd want a few bottles to ourselves."

"He's already tried to get me to buy him booze," Rogue said. "I haven't fallen for it yet."

Sabere drained the bottle and floated it into the recycling bin. "He likes you too much to push you. I'm still manipulatable…is that a word?"

"You're a lightweight, aren't you?" Bobby asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't get lunch," she retorted. "And I'm a little distracted by the telepathic hooker who's currently in a top-secret meeting with Xavier."

"A hooker? What?"

"Rogue hasn't seen her yet," Bobby explained.

"Ah. In that case, I won't spoil the surprise."

"Xavier hired a hooker?"

Sabere spotted a flash of movement in the hall. /_Come quietly. Don't let the kids suspect anything./_

"You explain," she told Bobby, and left the table as casually as she could.

Outside the kitchen, Kurt was waiting with Jean. She spoke telepathically to both of them as they stood silently off to the side.

_/I have to explain this way because a full broadcast to the X-Men could easily be eavesdropped on. You two are the last to be filled in. Emma is here because her organization has picked up evidence about a new anti-mutation drug in development./_

_/Stryker's drug/ _Sabere asked.

_/Similar./_

_/But the research from that drug was destroyed – SHIELD took care of that./_ SHEILD had also brought Kurt back to them, and Sabere wholly approved of the agency. But if they'd let something slip…

_/The Hellfire Club doesn't have much to go on, which is why Emma is here. We've never exactly gotten along in the past, but they have a plan to infiltrate and they need our help./_

Kurt looked dubious. /_I do not trust her./_

_/And she doesn't trust us – I got what I just told you from Xavier, not Emma, and they're both monitoring each other's communications as closely as they can. The last time Emma saw me I was still struggling with my telepathy, and I can't tell if she thinks I'm a threat or not. No matter what, keep your guard up and your thoughts quiet. We should all be filled in soon./_

With that, Jean broke the connection and went back down the hall. Sabere raised an eyebrow at Kurt, and he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't like 'porting, especially with beer on an empty stomach. She had her eyes squeezed shut until she felt ground under her feet again, and even then, cautiously cracked one to take in the sunshine. He had taken them out to the lake, which was empty except for some ducks. Just a few days ago, this lake was crowded with students, but since classes had adjourned for the summer, most of them were home. Kurt and Sabere spent quite a bit of time here, Kurt telling stories about his youth in the Munich circus, Sabere trying to think of something half as interesting to share.

"We are probably not out of her range here, but at least we are not a distraction," Kurt said, sprawling out on the grass. "So, what do you think she really wants?"

"What do you mean?" Sabere sat down beside him, watching the lake.

"It sounds like this woman is about as welcome in the mansion as Magneto. I have been here for five years, and I have not heard of her – but neither has Logan, which is more concerning."

"What has me concerned is that an international organization of mutants needs us for their mission," Sabere frowned. "If the rest of them are anything like Emma, they're powerful, but not just because of their mutations."

"They are cunning and ambitious," Kurt agreed. "They probably knew about our personal vendetta against Stryker and his drug, and want to manipulate that."

"But that was years ago, and we still don't know why that stuff wasn't destroyed."

"Stryker certainly did not get the chance to share his discovery," Kurt said wryly. Sabere felt a flash of anger that still occasionally hit her – Scott, not Sabere, had been the one to kill Stryker after Stryker himself had shot Kurt. The fact that Kurt had survived – and that over two years had passed – did not dampen her fury. He sat up, knowing what her silence meant, and brushed her cheek.

"Vengeance does not become you, _Liebchen_."

She leaned in to his caress, feeling his hand cup her cheek. "It's the world we've fallen into – kill or be killed." She turned her head to meet his eyes, yellow and frightening only to strangers. "Take or lose."

"Everything will be made right," he said quietly. "Have faith."

She nodded and kissed him. He had been the one to help her adjust after her late mutation and they'd fallen quickly in love. Despite Kurt's odd – to put it lightly – appearance, the entire mansion knew that the demonic face hid a pure soul and no one had questioned their relationship. Well, Logan had…but Logan had trouble keeping his hands to himself. Sabere could tell that no matter what he said, he was still in love with Jean; but she also knew that, given the opportunity, Sabere would make a decent substitute.

They sat for another minute, enjoying the stillness. Sabere, as Sami, had never imagined herself living the life of a soldier, but as an X-Man that was what she did. It seemed like every week they were fighting Magneto or infiltrating a military base to rescue an imprisoned mutant or rescuing potential students that Xavier sensed from all corners of the world. _All on a teacher's salary,_ she thought wryly. Tuition was a nonfactor at the Institute – if you could pay, you did, if you couldn't (which was more common), you were exempt. It was simple and it worked. The X-Men lived comfortably, offering what talents they had to the mansion and the next generation. Mostly they were teachers – even Kurt taught German and self-defense, and while Sabere hoped to simultaneously finish her PR studies and begin teaching communications here, she was mostly, as Xavier had put it earlier, a lackey. She ran solo missions occasionally – small errands like picking up a student from a safe situation, and even larger tasks like helping the Red Cross evacuate emergency areas. Her healing gift was unique, from what Xavier had told her, and he made sure she was useful around the world.

A sudden stronger breeze brought Storm down to the lake's edge, her silver hair loose and flowing everywhere. She was not smiling, which in itself was unusual, and the wind did not die down with her arrival.

"Xavier and Emma are ready to fill us in," she announced. "I want her out of my mansion, so let's make this quick."

She would have much preferred to fly back with Storm, but instead Kurt 'ported them directly into Xavier's office. If Emma was surprised, she kept it well-hidden. She stood arms akimbo, framed by the window. While her sexuality was daunting outside, it was downright intimidating indoors, especially surrounded by Xavier's decadent office. She kept her face still, not even acknowledging their arrival besides a distrustful flick of her blue eyes. Xavier promptly introduced them both, and Emma deigned to shake both their hands. Her hands were encased to the elbow in smooth white gloves, and the handshake felt (appropriately) like touching ice. Storm landed on Xavier's balcony and let herself in, her head erect and her face just as proud and impassive as Emma's. _Freud would relish this_, Sabere thought. _Women fighting for dominance and men fighting to stay focused_. Or unfocused, as may be in the case of Emma's protruding cleavage.

When the rest of the team arrived, Emma leaned against the front of Xavier's desk, crossing her legs so that the slit in her skirt exposed both. Sabere remained standing, as did Storm, hoping to keep some semblance of dominance in their own mansion. She was surprised to see Scott take a seat, but she supposed he was just trying to be diplomatic. She let her stance relax a little, realizing she had been standing stiffly. Emma did not wait for an introduction before launching into her speech.

Kurt was used to being detached about sexuality – he'd had to be, growing up as a circus child, the world assuming he was wearing elaborate makeup – but he found his eyes opened by this bizarre visitor. Everyone had trouble keeping their eyes off her ample cleavage, and meeting her cold blue eyes was far less pleasant. It was interesting – while the men had very mixed reactions towards her, the three women seemed determine to prove themselves against her. Storm's eyes were flashing and the wind had not died down, indicating her very great dislike for their visitor. Kurt was balanced on the back of Jean's chair, but he could see her hands were tightly folded in her lap. Sabere stood next to Xavier, unconsciously putting herself in the role of bodyguard, her eyes just as wary and her stance firm. Scott, of all of them, appeared completely nonchalant, seated casually and looking attentively up at Emma.

Logan, as Kurt expected, looked like he knew he should shred the woman's innards if he had to, but didn't want to damage such fantastic abs. Kurt started to think a very impure thought on that subject, but was stopped not by fear of God but by fear of what Emma would do to him if she picked it up. His tail twitched at the thought.

Her cold gaze swept the group as she began her speech.

"Over two years ago, this team took on Geoffrey Stryker after his drug poisoned your school," she said. "With SHIELD's help, you managed to destroy Stryker and his base, but not his evidence. It was recovered by a wealthy and less-than-scrupulous pharmaceutical company – we don't know when – and they have been researching a more practical drug, an injection, and planning a more public-friendly release for it."

Kurt was not the only one who resented the implications at letting the evidence survive. Storm spoke up. "Why didn't SHIELD do their job, and how did this company get their hands on it?"

"That hardly matters at this point," Emma said dismissively. "Your concern should no longer be about a defunct military operation. What needs to concern you now is that some very dangerous people have the research, the PR, and the resources to manufacture and distribute an anti-mutation drug on a massive scale."

"Too massive for you, I assume," Logan interrupted, glowering from his sprawled seat. Kurt guessed he was only faking his relaxed stance.

"Too massive for us to manage all the details," Emma conceded. "I – my organization and I – need your help infiltrating their headquarters. The company that has the research is called Bishop Pharmaceuticals, and they are hosting an end-of-the-year fête at their facility in the Cascades. My organization has provided a good portion of their funding over the years, so we have garnered a few invitations."

"You're _funding_ the guys who plan to wipe out mutation?" Storm demanded.

"Obviously, if the rest of the world knew the Hellfire Club was a society of mutants, it would demand far less respect and therefore lose all of its influence," Emma retorted. She re-crossed her legs, letting the skirt float around her boots and drape off her toned legs. "As far as the humans know, we are an alliance of wealthy individuals seeking to play the game of life on a larger and far riskier scale. Rest assured that if your mission fails – "

" – _our_ mission?" Logan broke in.

Emma's eyes flashed dangerously. "_The_ mission fails, Bishop will be losing a good deal of its funding due to a more promising venture elsewhere."

"What do you need us to do?" Jean asked calmly.

A smirk crossed her face. "The annual Bishop company ball is two weeks from this Saturday. All the higher-ranking members of my organization will be attending, and you will be coming as our…shall we say, entourage. Get in, destroy their plans, and leave."

Kurt glanced at Logan, certain that he would loathe this kind of infiltration, and sure enough, his arms were folded and he was glowering even more.

"So…" Sabere broke in tentatively. "I'm sorry, but wouldn't it be easier to just do what we do best? Slip in, do the job, get out?"

"You mean like what you did at the ocean base?" Emma retorted, and Kurt felt a flare of anger. "No. They may not be expecting trouble, but if they expect anything it will be 'your best.' They won't be watching the front door, so you'll all be walking in with me."

She turned back to the group. "The full plans will be worked out later, but our tailors will be sent to your mansion shortly to prepare appropriate attire, and – " As her gaze swept the room, her cold blue eyes stopped on Kurt. "As your powers do not allow you to conceal your appearance, I'm afraid you will have to sit this one out."

"Emma, I believe we discussed – "

"Reading powers is second nature, Charles, and you know it as well as I," Emma interrupted. "Don't worry, my blue friend, you will play a key role in this game even though you can't escort a lady. Charles, I will be in contact as we receive more intel."

"You are welcome, as always, Miss Frost," Xavier replied, with no hint of a smile in his eyes.

Emma swept out of the room. To his own amazement, Kurt's eyes didn't follow her – instead, he stared at the desk where she had once stood, feeling, for the first time since coming to this mansion, empty.


	3. Chapter 3: Paid Up

A/N: Naturally I forgot the disclaimer. I have no ownership over the X-Men or Marvel or related trademarks, nor any other trademarks mentioned. This story won't earn me money even if I wanted it to. My only claim is to Sabere.

Chapter 3: Paid Up

"There! Drink up!"

Eight bottles tilted up as the One Ring was sliced dramatically from Sauron's hand and fell to the earth – for the third time in the movie.

"Where did you find this game, and why did they use such a long damn movie?" Logan grumbled. His healing powers meant his tolerance was through the roof – good for reflexes, bad if you actually wanted to get drunk and ignore a movie you weren't fond of. Sabere hadn't expected him to like it – he seemed more like a _Die Hard_ fan.

"Google is an amazing thing," Scott said.

"Logan, you just wish there was more blood," Jean grinned.

"Or sex," Bobby offered cheekily. Logan responded with a glare that made Bobby hastily ice another beer and send it sliding down the table. Kitty and Colossus sat on the floor, nursing root beers and trying to hide their jealousy. They were still a couple months away from uniforms, and a couple years away from the drinking age. Still, they'd been a part of the bet, and so got to watch their elders get drunk to _Lord of the Rings_.

"You know, that Gandalf looks a bit like Magneto," Kurt observed drowsily. It was past one and he was enjoying a third bottle of his favorite brew.

"Nah. Nose is too big."

"Maybe, if he cut off all that hair…and shaved…"

"Then he wouldn't really be gray!"  
"Kitty, you're such a geek."

"Sabere, grab me another bottle of that beer you so graciously purchased for us." Scott grinned at her from the couch. They'd been giving her crap all night – the guys delighting in placing defeat solely on her shoulders, the ladies also placing defeat on her shoulders, though less cheerfully. Sabere had hoped the movie would distract them. It hadn't.

She didn't even move from Kurt's warm embrace as she lifted a bottle from the box and deliberately floated it past Scott, just out of his reach. He stretched for it and Jean had to make sure he didn't fall out of the chair.

"You haven't had anything to drink, have you?" Scott accused, settled safely in his seat.

"I've been playing." She pointed to her mostly-empty bottle as proof. "Just taking sips."

"Cheater."

"Look, I'm a bit distracted." Instantly she regretted her word choice.

"I didn't think furry-footed midgets were your type," Storm chucked.

"Maybe the girly blond archer?" Logan suggested.

"Hey, pointy ears, matched knives, he's tolerable," she replied with a grin, and felt Kurt kiss her cheek. "What I _meant_ to say was that I'm still preoccupied by Emma's little discovery."

"I thought we were tying _not _to think about that," Logan scowled.

"I'm just glad she's out of the mansion," Jean said vehemently, and the bottles on the table rattled a little. "I don't trust her."

"No one does."

"D'you think it's a trap?" Bobby asked.

"Are you guys gonna talk over the whole movie?" Kitty asked.

"Probably."

"About that lady in white?"

"Probably."

"And we're not supposed to know about that, right?"

"Definitely." Storm's tone was light, but it was clear that it was time for the kids to go.

Kitty obediently took the DVD and phased herself and Piotr out of the room. Storm stood up to pace.

"I had my suspicions, but you're the telepath," she said to Jean. "What do you think is going on?"

Jean shook her head. "It's very unlike SHIELD to be sloppy with something so critical, and it's even more unlike the Hellfire Club to ask us for help."

"These guys aren't friends of ours, I take it," Logan said.

"They're dangerous," Jean said simply. "They play power games on the global level. They've been around for centuries, pulling strings, orchestrating revolutions, crowning kings and maybe a pope or two, and making a lot of money in the process. But they just do it because they can – even I don't know what their final goal is."

"Why would you?" Kurt asked.

Jean made a wry face. "I was in it…for a while. I was the Black Queen for about a month before Emma figured me out."

Logan grinned. "Didja keep the outfit?"

Scott started to protest, but Jean fixed Logan with a glare that rivaled the one he'd given Bobby. "Burned it," she said.

"Why in the world were you in that club?" Sabere suppressed images of herself in Hellfire garb.

"Spying. We'll leave it at that." Jean clanked her bottle down on the table, signaling an end to _that_ discussion. "But yes, I think this Bishop annual party and new drug research could very well be a trap."

"No matter what, Charles isn't letting us go into this blind," Storm insisted. "He may be ethical, but he won't restrain himself if he thinks there's a greater danger. He'll get the truth somehow."

"And what if it _is_ all true?" Rogue asked quietly. "What if they are making another drug?"

"They won't, because we're gonna burn their factory to the ground," Logan growled.

"It's painful to say, but I agree with Logan," Scott said. "Even if they're planning to release it in a more publicly attractive way, like Emma said, we have to make sure nothing survives."

"Wouldn't it be better if it was like that? If the public knew about it?" Rogue continued. "I mean, they tried to force it on us, and that's wrong, but there's gotta be mutants who want to be cured. I don't think it's up to us to say whether they get that chance or not."

Sabere hadn't given that any thought. She had no doubt that Rogue was talking about herself, and that she would have certainly considered mutants outside the mansion. She felt a flash of fear as she realized Kurt might want the same chance.

Scott nodded slowly. "I'd thought about that," he mused, "but I haven't thought of a solution. Unless we controlled every step of the production, there's no way to gauge the outcome with other organizations involved."

"Even the government?" Rogue pressed.

"Especially the government. This whole thing started with Stryker, remember? I don't trust Emma, but we _can't_ trust the government."

Sabere mentally probed the box and floated out the last bottle. "Last call," she announced sleepily, determined to end the night on a different note than "paranoid." Worried as she was about Emma and the new drug, worrying wouldn't bring enlightenment, and besides, it was giving her a headache.

­_No, that's from the beer. _Sabere rolled her eyes at Jean, who nonchalantly drained the rest of her bottle.

Logan swiped the last beer and pushed himself off the couch. "It's mine, anyway. See you kids in the morning."

"It _is_ morning."

"Not 'till you wake up again," he corrected from the hall.


	4. Chapter 4: All Dressed Up And Nothing

Chapter 4: All Dressed Up And Nothing To Break

"Rise and shine, lovebirds."

Kurt cracked an eye open and glared up at Logan. Thanks to his powers, Logan never got a hangover; but Kurt had consumed more than he was used to and not slept as much as he should. Sabere had flopped onto the couch after it vacated. Kurt, thinking she looked entirely too pensive, had taken it upon himself to distract her. Eventually, they'd just fallen asleep there.

"What time is it?" Sabere asked, sitting up next to him.

"Bit after eight. Emma's here."

"_Was?_" That made Kurt sit up, although he instantly regretted moving.

Logan studied them both, then pointed at Kurt. "Thought you wouldn't be into that."

Part of him was frustrated that he missed the insinuation, but most of him was just trying to figure it out. "_Was?_" he asked again.

"He's not," Sabere reassured. "_We're_ not. And we didn't."

_Oh._

"Right."

"Not that it's any of your business."

"Of course."

Sabere climbed with surprising grace over Kurt and off the couch. Kurt's head swam just thinking about standing. He went back to thinking about why they'd been roused so early after such a night.

"Emma is here?" he asked finally.

"Elf, how many did you have?"

Kurt pondered. "Four."

"That's it?"

"My last drink before this was after the Korea incident, and I got about six hours of sleep last night." Korea…he'd have some explaining to do about that _that_ celebration when he got to the Pearly Gates. Hopefully the Lord would be more curious about his teammates' methods of unwinding than his.

Logan shook his head, whether out of admiration or derision Kurt couldn't tell. "Well, try to hide it," he advised. "Emma's less polite than usual today."

"What does she want now?" Sabere asked.

He hesitated. "I'm kinda afraid to tell you."

Kurt watched Sabere's eyebrows raise, daring him to answer.

"Dress fittings," Logan sighed. "She brought her tailors. Says she's going to provide proper gowns for this thing." Logan held his ground until every pillow in the room suddenly attacked him. Kurt immediately grabbed her hand.

"_Liebchen, _perhaps you should not kill the messenger."

The pillows drifted back to their original places, but Sabere still looked incensed. "I'm not wearing anything she calls 'proper,'" she snapped.

Fortunately, before a real argument could erupt, Storm entered the room. "Emma's waiting," she said briskly. "Come on, Logan, you too."

"I ain't wearing a tux," he snapped.

Despite the triumphant look on Sabere's face at discovering she wouldn't be the only one uncomfortable with their fashions, this did not help Kurt's mood. Always aiming to play the suave swashbuckler, wearing formal attire would have been as fun as a child playing dress-up. Despite Emma's disregard for his part in the mission and his own discipline, he'd allowed himself a few enjoyable daydreams in which he escorted Sabere (always ravishing, never skanky) through the party, like a British spy, waiting for the battle.

Now he was relegated to the background.

"Logan, I'm going to advise skipping this argument, because there are two telepaths on the edge of their tempers who will not hesitate in _making _you follow orders."

"Okay, okay…" Logan shambled out of the room, arms folded and jaw clenched. Storm turned to Sabere.

"The dresses really aren't bad," she said.

"By your standards or mine? I'm not trying to be hurtful, but you've always been more comfortable with…" She trailed off, but anyone who knew Storm's exotic history as an African goddess, and her ease in even the scantiest of clothing, knew what she meant.

Storm smiled reassuringly. "They really are fine. But Emma could easily alter them if you keep her waiting any longer."

Kurt tried to look encouraging, but he had absolutely nothing to look forward to on this mission. Among friends, Sabere would be perfectly fine in a Hellfire-approved gown, but among strangers and in a dangerous situation, she'd want support. That was supposed to be Kurt's job, and now it would be assigned to someone else – plus, he didn't want to miss how beautiful she'd look. Assuming he could even look at her without feeling like he'd have to repent.

He hung back as Sabere followed Storm out, but Storm called back for him.

"Xavier wants to see you, Kurt. He wants to talk over your role."

Kurt agreed and followed them out. His role…not the swashbuckler, not the support his love needed, not even a visible role.

Sabere had changed a lot in Kurt's life, but she couldn't do anything about this.

To Sabere's relief, the dresses were tolerable. She supposed they weren't too scandalous to ensure Emma got the attention, but there was certainly more cleavage than Sabere would have prefered. She studied her reflection as a silent tailor poked and adjusted unabashedly. The dresses were gray satin, presumably representing devotion to both the hierarchies of the Club. The bodice was the focus, obviously – black lace covered the tight boning, and small white pearls along the top edge drew even more attention to the perilous bustline. The skirt, thankfully, hung simply – no slits to be wary of.

Storm, who was being fitted in the mirror next to her, suddenly slapped her tailor's hands as he reached up to adjust her cleavage. She snatched the padding from him and did it herself. Sabere's tailor looked up anxiously, expecting the same reaction, and Sabere took the padding as well. _Not that there's any way I can get any more lift out of this._

The door to the adjoining room opened, and in came Jean, followed by her own tailor. She was wearing a stunning red satin gown with a hazardously low cowl neck. She twirled a little to show off. The back dipped equally low, and three thin gold chains draped horizontally across her back.

"How come you get to wear that and we have to match?" Storm demanded, amazed. Sabere shared the sentiments, but was more concerned about looking like a call girl's attendant than having to coordinate.

"I'll be recognized," Jean answered with a self-conscious smile. "Dr. Jean Grey may have been off the scene for a few years, but she'll still be well-known in this circle. Xavier and Emma both think it will be a good distraction for a mutant with some genetics knowledge to be seen at this event."

"But an X-Man?" Storm asked, not so wild about this plan.

"Won't they suspect something?" added Sabere.

"All part of the plan," Xavier assured them, rolling in with Emma just behind. She immediately brushed around him to critique them.

"Jean, you'll need a necklace of some kind; Storm, that hair is far too distinctive, I'll send my stylists to fix that; Sabere, more cleavage, and stand up straight, for heaven's sake. Just because you're entourage doesn't mean you're totally spineless."

"Unlike you, I don't have the disposable income to _create_ any more cleavage," Sabere retorted, only slightly regretting the outburst. To her surprise, Emma only pursed her perfectly plumped lips and folded her arms. Before anything could develop, the rest of the X-Men filed in. Rogue looked enviously at their dresses; the men just looked.

"Charles, why don't you fill everyone in," Emma said smoothly.

"The Bishop Pharmaceuticals party is approaching. As Emma has already told us, she and her organization will attend, with Logan, Robert, Storm, and Sabere posing as members of the entourage. Jean, who will be too recognizable in a scientific setting, will go as herself. Yes, this may put security on edge, but we intend to move quickly. Whatever distractions Jean's presence happens to cause, you will have to improvise and deal with as they occur." This was mostly directed at Jean, since as a telepath she'd be the best capable to quell incidents before they occurred. He continued, "Meanwhile, Kurt and Rogue will be disarming the factory and locating the necessary research and equipment. Everything will be monitored by Scott and Kitty from a Hellfire limousine parked on site. When everything is arranged, the X-Men will all convene with Kurt and Rogue and destroy everything."

Remembering Rogue's argument from the night before, Sabere started to speak up. Xavier beat her to it.

"There has been some contention on the final goals of this mission, but it has been decided that this is the best course of action. I hope there will be no further argument on the subject," he finished with a tone that indicated there _wouldn't_ be.

Emma took over again. "That will be all. You have two weeks to train in your own fashion, and I insist on some etiquette lessons. You have to participate in _my _world before you get to break things." This made Logan look even grumpier.

"They'll be ready, Miss Frost," Xavier promised. "In fact, they'll be more prepared to converse than to wear your garments."

Emma smirked and, with a flick of her hand and a flash of leg, the tailors followed her out.

Sabere unconsciously smoother her skirt, and happened to look up at the gathered X-Men. Xavier's face held only amusement at whatever psychic vibes he was picking up. Rogue stood arms akimbo, also smirking, as the men tried to figure out where to look. After what seemed like an age of awkward silence, Kurt, ever the gentleman, stepped forward to help Sabere off the tailor's block. She smiled in gratitude. Storm stepped gracefully off her own block and swept into the other room.

"Show's over, boys," she called over her shoulder. "I can't breathe."

"Too bad, because you look radiant," Kurt told Sabere. She thought "radiant" was pushing it, and raised an eyebrow.

"Radiant for a woman who has been laced into a gown left over from _Moulin Rouge,_" he amended with a smile.

"So we won't see those dresses for another two weeks?" Logan asked a bit dejectedly.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Jean said wryly. She accepted a kiss and a few whispered words from Scott, and glided with a smile in after Storm. Logan's eyes flicked back to Sabere as soon as the door closed. He studied her for a minute, then gave a little bow and left the room.

Xavier rolled closer. "It's a shame he can't accompany you," he said, motioning to Kurt. "You match quite nicely."

Sabere tried to laugh and realized that Storm had been right about the not-breathing thing. How was she supposed to wear this for multiple hours?

"We will match more when she turns blue from lack of air," Kurt grinned. "Maybe you had better change as well."

"Please." She lifted the skirt so she didn't step on it – heels, she'd have to wear goddamned _heels_ on top of everything else – and closed the door behind her. The other women were already mostly changed.

"Okay, somebody help me out of this thing," she gasped.


	5. Chapter 5: Some Kind of Monster

Chapter 5: Some Kind of Monster

As promised, the next two weeks were filled with Danger Room sessions (which Saber dared not miss) and etiquette lessons (which no one could miss, since Xavier rather sneakily guided them subconsciously to every lesson). The Dress hung over Sabere's door. She ignored it most of the time, but, acknowledging the fact that passing out at the event might ruin their cover, she tried it on every few nights to practice breathing and walking in the deadly heights of the black stilettos Emma had sent.

The Dresses took on an infamy around the mansion. Mocking wages were placed in terms of "fashion shows," and a frequent bribe in jest was, "I'll show you The Dress…"

Despite the good humor inspired by those stupid dresses, no one forgot that they could potentially be walking into a trap. There was no knowing who else the Hellfire Club was playing their game with, and what designs they had on the X-Men. A week before, Jean and Storm took the jet to scope out Bishop Pharmaceuticals. The cross-country flight took over half an hour – slow for the jet, but they had to be more careful than usual to avoid detection. The pair returned just before a Danger Room session.

"Good news or bad?" Scott asked them when everyone was suited up.

"Looks like Emma was telling the truth," Storm said. "Whether that's good news or not remains to be seen."

"The factory is just a bit south of the Canadian border, northeast of Bellingham, up in the mountains," Jean added. "Right where Emma said. It's only accessible by one road, or by air. I did a quick scan and found a few people thinking about this party."

"How does security look?"

Storm shrugged. "Couldn't tell from our altitude, which probably means pretty light. We took a few photos that we can look at later."

"Good job, ladies," Scott said. "And you're just in time for the giant robots."

"My specialty." Storm led the way into the Danger Room.

Then Saturday was upon them. Sabere found herself struggling back into The Dress, with Emma's stylists swarming around her, fixing up her hair and applying makeup. In the flurry of tying laces and adjusting cleavage, Sabere caught glimpses of herself in the mirror and did a double-take every time. Her eyes were dramatically brushed with black and gray, and her lips got a shimmering bronze gloss. Her hair was being twisted back with silver pins, and a few strands hung stylishly free. At last one of them draped a simple silver necklace with one large pearl around her perfumed neck, and Sabere was quite suddenly left alone to stare at her transformed reflection.

In spite of everything, she thought that she looked bearable. _Probably because there's still not enough cleavage,_ she thought grimly. She stepped closer – the 3-inch heels were mostly broken in – and inspected her eyes, her hair, feeling like she was scrutinizing a mask. She may look beautiful, but she didn't look like her. It was safer that way, to disappear under glamour, but she was already waiting for the moment when she could slip away from the party and into the familiar uniform.

Kurt knocked and let himself in. To Sabere's envy, he was already in uniform. He shook his head a little at the sight of her.

"You might not believe me, _liebchen,_ but you look lovely."

She smiled a little and saw her reflection mimic the gesture. It wasn't her smile, not with the seductive eyes and the painted mouth. Kurt stepped closer and took her hand.

"Can I kiss you, or will you be punished for smudged makeup?" he whispered.

"I'll take the chance." She was almost taller than him with the heels, but when he took her waist and gently kissed her, everything else faded from her mind.

"Be safe," she said when they parted.

"Me? I will be doing what I do best. You are trapped spying in a high-society function." His face fell a little. "I wanted to be at your side."

"I know." She drew him into another embrace. "I would have like that."

They stood there another moment, still hoping for some last-minute change, that the whole mission was off or maybe Sabere didn't need to be stuffed into a decadent gown. But they both felt Xavier's summons, and Kurt held her tighter and 'ported them both down to the jet. Storm and Jean were wrapped in thick fine wool coats, and the men were wearing old-fashioned coats with short capes across the shoulders. Bobby, who was partnered with Sabere, gave her coat to Kurt and stepped back. She let him slide the coat over her shoulders, appreciating its concealment and Bobby's gesture. Xavier studied them all and nodded in approval.

"You'll meet with Emma and the rest of her organization about five miles north of the entrance to the road," he explained. "Two limousines will take you up to the facility. The rest you know." His blue gaze swept to Rogue, reminding them of the mission's final goal. "Good luck."

The seat felt different under luxurious fabrics instead of armored leather. Sabere found herself crossing and re-crossing her legs. She envied Storm, who had shed her coat, confidently piloting in the stiletto heels with her hair, dyed black, lying smoothly across her bare shoulders. If she was as anxious as Sabere, she hid it well.

The jet dropped through Pacific Northwest cloud cover and settled in a clearing just off the road. Two limousines, black with white logos on the doors, were waiting, barely visible in the night. As she had expected for Washington weather, it was a chilly summer night. She followed the more experienced X-Men to the cars as two men in long black coats opened the doors to usher them in. There were no welcomes from either side.

Sabere found herself between Kurt and Logan in the white hierarchy's limo. Emma was draped in a fur-trimmed white cape that concealed whatever gown she was wearing. A stocky but still handsome man in a gray tuxedo with a ruffled white tie sat next to her – presumably the White King. Four other white-clad beauties sat across from the X-Men. No one smiled. Sabere tried to look over their shoulders out the window, but all she could see of the night was her own doll-like reflection.

At last they came to a stop. Emma sat forward, her cold blue eyes sweeping the X-Men. "Scott and Kitty will be waiting in the other car. Jean and I will be listening for them." One perfect eyebrow arched up as she glared at them. "I don't mean to sound petty, but keep in mind that you are currently representing our organization. If anything goes wrong, rest assured that ours will be the first response from the mutant community, and it will not be kind."

"We wouldn't expect anything else," Logan retorted. Emma smirked and led the way out of the limo. Sabere only had time for a last glance at Kurt before he 'ported out to get Rogue and play his part. She took a deep breath and followed Logan out into the night. _Game time._


	6. Chapter 6: Party Like It's The Dawn Of A

Chapter 6: Party Like It's The Dawn Of A New Era

Emma had been right – getting through the front door was tricky enough, never mind sneaking in more heavily guarded back entrances. She wondered how Kurt and Rogue were doing, but a mental tap from Jean reminded her to keep her attention on the party. Armed guards circled behind busboys and waitresses. Doctors and scientists were indistinguishable from clients and sponsors, all in lavish dresses and smooth tuxes. Sabere thought she caught a glimpse of the Secretary of the Interior as she handed her coat to the staff. The black hierarchy processed in behind them – none of their "entourage" were X-Men. The dark-haired woman at the front, presumably their Queen, was wearing a positively ugly black sheer dress with artfully-cut undergarments drawing attention to her assets – but not in a good way.

Emma, on the other hand, shed her cloak fearlessly and immediately dared anyone to challenger her reign over the fête. She was wearing the most daring dress Sabere had ever seen. It was essentially just a skirt, with two structured panels in the front rising up to lift and cradle her cleavage in a way that didn't seem gravitationally possible. A massive diamond necklace covered most of her neck and collarbone, and her hair was swept up into a diamond-studded silver circlet. Sabere guessed that, despite what Scott had said about power struggles, Emma and her Whites definitely ruled Hellfire.

She felt Bobby tap her arm and saw that the Club was ready to enter the festivities. He offered her his arm with a wry grin. Storm had Logan's arm and seemed completely oblivious to the admiring stares she was receiving. She look majestic in her dress, while Sabere just felt exposed. But she took Bobby's arm and held her head high as she followed the Hellfire Club into the ballroom.

She immediately spotted Jean, circling and talking science with some old consorts. Her presence – as a scientist returned to the scene, as an X-Man, and as a very stunning woman – was almost enough to take attention from Emma Frost. The other guests, even some who were equally wealthy patrons, regarded the Club and Emma with fearful reverence. It was clear that everyone thought Jean was the only mutant in the room, but the Club's worldwide eminence was obviously just as awe-inspiring. Emma owned the room, but Jean was a distraction. Sabere kept her eyes open, knowing that there would be some in the room who suspected more than one X-Man was present. Storm's dyed hair made her less of a suspect, and the other X-Men were new enough to not register with the public eye. So far, their cover was holding.

The party had only been in swing for less than an hour, but Sabere could see several inebriated guests. She kept her face blank, like the rest of the entourage, as Emma circled the room and harvested compliments. With her nerves on edge, her reflexes had no trouble alerting her to the hand coming down on her shoulder. She whipped around and caught it, and had to restrain all her training that told her to do more damage. Fortunately, the man was too drunk to be alarmed.

"This must be a bore for a society doll like you," he grinned, slurring a little. "Lemme show you a little more excitement."

"Not interested." She pushed the hand away and ignored Bobby's glance. Kurt would have helped her laugh it off, after leaving the drunk flabbergasted with something witty.

Instead, there was Emma. She swept back, chest aloft, eyes flashing. "I certainly hope you're expressing yourself chivalrously to my entourage."

The man reeled back. Apparently he hadn't been paying attention, and even though Emma didn't know him, her certainly knew who she was. "I beg your pardon, Miss Frost, I didn't know, I – "

"That's enough." Emma moved on, and Sabere nearly dragged Bobby after her.

"They're taking a while," he whispered once they were gone. "Do you think something went wrong?"

"One of them would have noticed," she replied, meaning Jean and Emma. But still…over an hour, and no word. "Maybe they're just covering all their bases – we can't mess this one up."

Bobby nodded, and then –

_/They're ready. Follow me./_ And Emma somehow got a glass of red wine to spill on her dress.

Naturally, chaos ensued. Everyone surrounding Emma pushed in with apologies and offers of napkins. Emma burst into a fit and, shoving and slapping, pushed her way out to the restrooms, cursing the plebian fools who ruined her evening. The X-Men rushed behind, playing along. Emma led them past the restrooms, past guards who stared blankly at the walls as they rushed by, and to Jean, who was already belting her uniform at a blank gray door.

"Scott and Kitty are on their way in. Kurt and Rogue are holding the door on the other end of this hallway," she told them, shoving two large duffels in their direction. Logan opened it and distributed uniforms. Emma looked back down the hall.

"They're starting to wonder about me. I'll make my exit now, so you won't be missed." Sabere thought she sounded almost civil. Then, "God, this dress may never come clean…clumsy bastard, this wasn't the cover I had in mind…"

She strutted back down the hallway without so much as a goodbye. Logan shrugged and shed his tuxedo jacket.

Clearly there was no time for modesty. Despite her discomfort from the evening's dress, it was almost a relief to turn her back and shed the gown. She zipped the uniform with a sigh of gratitude and turned back to see everyone turn back as well. Jean's eyes flitted to the side like they often did when she was communication, then looked back and nodded.

"Everything's ready. We follow Kurt."


	7. Chapter 7: Betrayed, Betrayer

Chapter 7: Betrayed, Betrayer

The X-Men jogged down the gray industrial hallway, seeing signs of Kitty's handiwork everywhere. Cameras fizzed and sparked from where she had passed through them, wrecking their circuits. Sabere waved the door open – _use the Force, Luke_ passed irreverently through her mind – and found the other four waiting on the other side, on a landing of a huge staircase against the wall of an equally huge room.

"Good party?" Kurt asked with a casual grin. Sabere rolled her eyes and Storm laughed.

"I guess everything's under control, since we're just chatting," Logan insinuated. Scott nodded.

"Everything is. Kurt and Rogue took care of the laboratory, and Kitty just finished wiping their computers. We need to trash a few specimens and shred some files, but other than that – "

Sabere and Jean sensed it before it came, but too late to stop it.

"All of you, hands in the air!" Suddenly the hallway behind them and the stairs on either side were swarming with security officers, all heavily armed, all angry. Before the X-Men could even communicate a strategy, a woman in a white lab coat pushed to the front.

"Dr. Rao, you shouldn't be here," one of the officers said, but she waved a hand and cut him off.

"This is my lab and I don't trust you to secure it." Her brown eyes flashed under slender glasses. "I want to know what these people are doing in my building."  
"Take a guess," Logan replied, brow furrowed. "You've got something you shouldn't be messing with." His claws were still popped, hands still exactly where the guards wouldn't want them to be – ready to slice.

"And as soon as I heard Jean Grey was attending Bishop's party, I sent for more security. There are a few more of you than I was expecting," she added, frowning at the newer members.

Scott unexpectedly took the diplomatic approach. "We intended to destroy this research over two years ago, with SHIELD's help."

Dr. Rao frowned more. "SHIELD gave me most of the materials I've been using since I started this project."

Sabere was taken aback and she glanced at Scott. As a newer member, she didn't know exactly how the alliance between the X-Men and SHIELD worked, but according to the looks on Scott's and Logan's faces, this was an unprecedented betrayal.

"Then," Scott said slowly, "I guess we're not meeting on equal terms here."

"I suppose not," Rao replied calmly. The guards waited for an order, and Sabere felt the inklings of a plan trickle from Jean into her mind. She had her task.

Logan lunged, Kitty phased Dr. Rao through the floor to safety, and Sabere and Jean threw out a telekinetic shield with enough force to throw most of the guards off the landing. Logan slashed the door closed behind them and rounded on Kurt. "Hope you found another way out of here, elf!"

Sabere saw Rogue leap off the landing after Kitty and Rao, but there was gunfire everywhere and oh God it felt like two years ago when Kurt was – _focus!_ She didn't have her knives, but she had her powers, and she gathered her energy and shoved one, two, three guards off the stairs. Kurt 'ported up next to her, and suddenly she _did_ have her knives, and suddenly the guards upstairs were arranged in a cluster and spitting bullets down at the X-Men. Sabere wrapped herself in a shield, feeling every bullet echo against her skin as her energy drained, and suddenly she was among the guards, knives in hand, slashing apart guns, and when they reached for more, slashing arms too. At last she found herself standing over four kneeling guards, all clutching at least one bleeding arm. She couldn't see their faces under the visors of their helmets, but whatever they saw must have taken the fight out of them, because they ran through the next door. Looking back downstairs, Sabere saw the last guard fall to Wolverine's claws.

"That's it?" she called down.

"Find Dr. Rao," was Scott's order. Sabere jumped off the stairs and floated herself down to the next level. Kitty lay against a doorframe, holding her head. She was bleeding between her fingers.

"What happened?" Sabere asked, dropping to her knees next to the girl, gently pulling her fingers away to heal the wound. Kitty squeezed her eyes shut. "It was…no, it couldn't have been Rogue…but Dr. Rao ran ahead of me…"

"Rogue?" Sabere asked in alarm. The wound was healed, and Sabere left Kitty to wait for the others while she sprinted down the hall. How far could Rogue have gotten? What the hell was she doing?

She caught up to her standing in an open door, the cold night breeze blowing in past her. Rogue turned around, tears spilling down her cheeks. Sabere couldn't even think what to ask – where was Dr. Rao, what happened to Kitty, why was she crying…

But Rogue spoke for herself. "I saved the master disk from the lab," she confessed. "Kurt gave it to me, told me to destroy it, but I couldn't, I couldn't rob the world of the chance to make that choice…" She brushed tears away but looked steadily at Sabere. "I gave the disk to Dr. Rao as she was running. I let her go."

Sabere slumped against the wall, overwhelmed. After all their attempts to make sure the mutant community could live in safety, with no fear of an unapproved drug being slipped into their meals, now a geneticist had all that information and all the drive to make sure it was completed. SHIELD had betrayed them, one of their own had attacked another and disobeyed orders…and all for nothing.

"Sabere, I had to." Rogue's cheeks were still shining with tears, but Sabere couldn't bring herself to lay any more blame. After all, Rogue was right – the X-Men alone couldn't decide for the world who had to remain a mutant and who got to live free and human.

"Scott won't be happy," she told her gently.

"I did what I thought was right. That's what Xavier always tells us – do what we think is right for the world, not just for our own agendas."

Sabere nodded. "Okay."

Kurt led the rest of the X-Men down the hall. He kept his face carefully blank, but Scott slid past him and his face was not so passive. Sabere dropped out of the way as Scott asked as calmly as could be expected what had happened. Rogue explained everything with more and more confidence. Scott shook his head, either too angry for words or unable to argue with her logic.

"I am also to blame," Kurt interrupted quietly. "I knew Rogue's concerns about this mission, and I gave her the disk knowing that she would make sure it escaped destruction." Scott folded his arms.

Kurt continued calmly. "I think she is right. We are not the only ones who can dictate the world's decisions. We must have some faith in the rest of the country, in other mutants, that this drug will be implemented wisely."

Scott finally nodded in assent.

"So this whole mission was for nothing?" Kitty asked quietly.

"They're like that sometimes," Scott answered glumly. "But we need to watch out for the consequences of this one. This is going to get worse before it gets better."

The rest of the X-Men nodded in agreement. Storm patted Scott's back and let the way outside.

"Come on, team," she called over her shoulder. "My feet hurt."

Sabere felt herself smile and followed the X-Men out into the night.

A/N: The end! I hope it was tolerable, if not enjoyable…review if you haven't, because we loves reviews, yes precious, we does. Now keep your eyes peeled for the real sequel. Thanks, everyone!

-LA


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